A/N: Okay hey guys I just wanted to give you a visual kinda thing so you can getta feel for the characters if you've never played Mystic Messenger before. Eventually, all of these characters WILL be included in my story, but I have it planned out when they're gonna enter. Okay so, if you look at the picture I included, from left to right we've got Rika, Saeran, Saeyoung, Jumin, MC (yeah, I'm still working out how I'm gonna fit her in whoops), Zen, Yoosung, Jaehee, and V. Hope this helps :P

...

Yoosung sat on a wooden-framed bed with sterile white sheets, with three white curtains obscuring his view from the rest of the room. 

A needle was injected into his forearm, connected to a tube that led to a plastic bag of clear liquid, which hung from a tall metal stand next to Yoosung. 

The room smelled of disinfectant and something like lemon perfume: artificial and too sweet. The sheets around him hung from the ceiling, which was wood-slatted. 

Yoosung, curious, slowly pushed back the warm covers. It was then that he realized what he was wearing. A flannel button-down shirt obscured his chest and hung to his mid-thigh, and then sleeves draped down past his fingers, and it looked strikingly feminine, but it was comfortable, and Yoosung definitely not going to go around shirtless.

Underneath the long shirt, he wore an unfamiliar set of boxers, plain white with an elastic waistband. However, these were considerably short and had elastic hems too, making them look more like bloomers than anything. Yoosung felt a light blush on his cheeks. 

He slowly slipped his legs out from under the covers and placed them on the small blue rug that covered the scratched wooden floor. Oh-so-slowly, he put pressure on them to try and stand. Not entirely trusting himself, he grabbed hold of the metal stand that attached to his inner forearm.

This proved to be useful, and soon, he was tottering slowly and on shaky legs out of his private tent of curtains.

It turned out he was in a large rectangular room with many beds identical to his own, neatly made. There were a few beds with curtains surrounding them, but Yoosung didn't dare to look inside. 

Instead, he walked as quietly as possible to the open door that seemed to lead to a hallway. Once outside, he gulped; he had no idea which way to go. However, when he stopped, he began hearing an odd clamor to his left. 

Yoosung decided to head that way, stupid him, towards the noise. He couldn't help it if he was curious!

At the end of the hallway, a light came from the right, and as Yoosung got closer, he recognized the clamor as voices. Lots of voices. What was this? Some sort of cult organization come to steal his kidneys? Yoosung couldn't help but pat his abdomen lightly, as if reassuring his internal organs.

Pushing past his fear, he sped up his pace. Well, as much as a post-hypothermic, weak, battered, and bruised practically-senior-citizen could speed up his hobble. 

The raucous got louder and louder, and Yoosung could soon hear the sound of utensils against plates too. So it was a cafeteria...? Yoosung's aching stomach moaned for food, and he sighed heavily. 

After what seemed like an eternity, Yoosung reached the opening, and the sight before him nearly had him fainting dead away. 

Long tables held hundreds of talking, laughing, and eating people of all ages. Most were in their twenties or thirties, or so it seemed, but there were a few older and some teens and even children. The tables formed four long rows with walking space in between.

The room itself was probably three times bigger than the infirmary Yoosung had just been in, with a tall, domed ceiling. 

At the end of the room, what seemed like a throne was standing atop several boxes, towering about 6 feet above the floor. Reclined lazily in the grand chair was a young man about Yoosung's age, with muscled arms and bleach-white hair. It was then that someone noticed Yoosung standing in the doorway.

"OYE! HEY, CUTIE!" a man bellowed, standing up. All head swiveled around to face Yoosung, conversation trickling away. Yoosung promptly wanted to melt into the floor from all the attention. 

The man quickly got up, as did many others, and began slowly walking towards Yoosung, friendly grins and curious smiles as they jostled next to each other. As far as Yoosung could tell, there was no malicious intent, but he still kept his guard up. 

However, before the crowd could get too close, a figure jumped in front of Yoosung. He blinked. The figure spoke. "Hands to your dirty selves! He's mine!" It was a woman, a bit older than Yoosung with long brown hair and coffee eyes. 

The man who had noticed me before called out, "Shut up, we all know you're gay as fuck, Jaehee." This was met by loud laughter, and Jaehee grinned herself, nudging Yoosungwith her elbow playfully, before yelling out herself. 

"HEY SAERAN! BOSS, IS HE STAYING? C'MON, I SAVED HIS LIFE. YOU'VE GOTTA LET HIM STAY!" Ah, so that's why Yoosung recognized her voice. Jaehee had been the one to tell this Boss guy about Yoosung's condition. So that must make... Saeran, the guy on the throne, Mr. Silk.

All heads turned back to the man who was sitting on the throne. He was now sitting straighter, alert. Saeran uncrossed his legs, and then dropped from his chair with a light thump, staying his crouched position on the floor for just a beat longer than necessary, almost giving him a cat-like appearance. 

No one spoke as he walked slowly down the middle aisle towards us, but Yoosung knew for sure that he himself was positively terrified of this guy, with his daunting presence and clear confidence. 

Even his clothing made him seem dangerous. He wore a dark red tank top, a black, shiny hoodie that slumped off his right shoulder to expose an odd-looking tattoo of an intricate eye design, a delicate leather choker on his neck, and black jeans and boots. 

Yoosung could see Saeran's eyes more clearly now, and they seemed to pop from the black eyeliner around his lids that vaguely resembled the circles around a street vendor's eyes after a few nights on Mortem Ave. Yoosung wondered if that was on purpose. 

Anyways, those eyes. They were a bright minty teal, and they seemed to pierce right through Yoosung, wide and sharp. 

The crowd parted down the center and Saeran swaggered through, smirking slightly. He approached Yoosung, looking him up and down briefly. He nodded once, then turned to face the crowd.

"Ladies," he looked to Jaehee, with a pointed glance, "Gentlemen," he raised an eyebrow at the man who had originally called Yoosungout, "I apologize," he slung a heavy arm around Yoosung's shoulders, "for having to disappoint your apparently raging hormones," there were a few sniggers as he flourished his free hand to the crowd, "But..." he smirked and winked simultaneously, "Fresh meat is mine."